A Little Light, A Little Look

Cleo the kitten padded across her room in her stripy pajamas, her tail curled tight behind her like a question mark. On her nightstand sat Dot, a small round bookmark with a stitched smile, tucked snug in the pages of Cleo's favorite book about a brave little train. Dot didn't move much, and she didn't say much either, but when the house went quiet, she had a way of whispering just loud enough for one kitten to hear.

"Lights out," called Cleo's mama from the hallway, and the room dimmed to the soft glow of the little lamp by the door. Cleo climbed into bed and pulled her blanket to her chin. That was when she saw them: two pale circles, glowing faintly in the shadow beneath her bed, low and still and watching.

Cleo's heart thumped hard against her ribs, quick as a bird in a too-small nest. Her paws went cold under the blanket. Scared, she thought, I am scared, and the thought felt as real and true as the two pale eyes staring back at her from the dark. In her mind the shape beneath the bed grew enormous, something with fur matted and breath held, something that had been waiting there all along for the lights to go down.